


Ritual

by snarkasaurus



Series: Fictober 2019 [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 12:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: This was their ritual.Written for Kinktober 2019 (yes, I know it's currently November). This will fit for pretty much any het ship in any fandom, even though it's marked as original fic. basically sub in your character's names, imagine them, and off you go!
Series: Fictober 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504607
Kudos: 9





	Ritual

This was theirs. This moment in time where they could shut the door on the world and ignore the existence of everything else. He could focus on the way she carefully took off her makeup, let down her hair, took off each article of clothing and put it either in the hamper, on the rack to freshen, or in the stack to get dry cleaned. He could watch her select one of the slinky soft nightgowns she preferred, slip it over her naked body, and pad to bed. 

She could watch him shuck his pants, stepping out of them as he unbuttoned his shirt. She could observe the learned care with which he took care of his clothes, the thing that she taught him (at least a little bit). She smiled softly to herself as he wandered around their bedroom, completely naked, humming to whatever song was playing on the radio. 

He never climbed into bed until she was there, never touching the covers until she was settled and he’d circled the house, making sure windows and doors were locked and covered. She’d once asked him why he did it naked. 

“Babe, if someone’s going to break in here, maybe I can intimidate them with my bat.” 

Once she’d stopped laughing, she had to admit that he was certainly big enough to be intimidating to most men, and she didn’t ask again. She figured it wasn’t worth the question. It didn’t matter, anyway. This was about how they lived, worked around each other, danced together in their lives. 

And the dance didn’t end there. Once she was in bed in her silky nightie, he came to her. Something shifted in his naked walk around the house, and on his return to the bedroom, he prowled. She was his prey and every time he looked at her like that, she wanted to lay herself out as an offering to him. 

She did that tonight. As he stalked back into the room, his eyes hot on her, she spread herself out on the bed, legs spread wide, arms tucked up under her head. Her nightie was short tonight, and spreading her legs rucked it up to rest just above the curls she kept trimmed. She swallowed, her breath quickening when she saw what seeing her like this did. His cock was hardening rapidly, and she knew she was about to be… well, devoured was the immediate word that came to mind. 

He crawled onto the bed between her spread thighs, his eyes locked on her pussy spread open for him. She watched him, and damned near swallowed her tongue when he didn’t give her any warning other than spreading her open with his fingers. His mouth was on her and she was flying. 

He knew exactly what to give her to make her fly, teasing and torturing her in all the best ways. He gave her no chance to breathe, no chance to try and hold back. He pushed her as fast as he could toward a climax...and then another...and then another. He had her body shaking with the depth and intensity of the passion he pulled from her, leaving her a whimpering, begging, desperate wreck. 

This was his worship. If their bedtime routine was a ritual that showed their devotion to their life together, this was his worship of her. And bless whatever deity there was in whatever heavens might exist, she didn’t even realize he’d moved until she felt his cock sliding into her sopping wet sheath. She all but screamed with pleasure as his girth stretched her out and she came again from that alone. 

He set a fast, pounding pace at the absolutely perfect angle to send her flying higher and higher until she crested. And then he kept going, not letting her come down, not letting her rest. He kept her soaring, coming over and over. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe except in gasps and moans, couldn’t feel anything except his cock sliding in and out of her, the weight of his body pressing hers down and open, the feel of his mouth on her neck. 

Her hands slid across his rippling back muscles, slick with the sweat from his exertions. This was his ritual, his worshipful declaration of how he felt. She craved this as much as he seemed to crave giving it to her. It wasn’t always like this. Sometimes the sex was rough and demanding, sometimes it was fun and playful, sometimes it was so tender and loving it brought tears to her eyes. But this… This was something else entirely. She could never predict when he would be in this mood, when their loving would be like this. 

She would always treasure it, though. She would never take this worship for granted; she couldn’t. 

By the time he was groaning into her neck, his cock buried as deeply inside of her as he could manage, she was nothing more than a puddle of sated adoration. She held him wrapped in his arms, her legs curled around his hips. Cradling him with her body like this was the heaven she wanted for so long. 

This was their ritual.


End file.
